by Amy Brent
He was leaning on the bar with one elbow and a drink in his hand. He looked like a magazine ad out of an old Esquire Magazine. I approached him from his blind side and ordered a glass of champagne. He either didn’t hear me or didn’t see the need to turn around. I was pretty sure he wasn’t there looking to get laid. Most likely he was just fulfilling a professional obligation to Kyle’s parents. I knew he wouldn’t be there on Kyle’s behalf unless it was to pound him in the ground. I could only assume that Nick Patron detested Kyle as much as Kyle detested him.
“You look a little bored,” I said. He didn’t respond at first, then slowly turned to face me. When our eyes met, his lips parted for a moment, then he smiled.
“Do I?” he asked. “I’m trying hard not to.”
“Well, maybe just a little,” I said coyly, batting my eyelashes at him. I held out my hand. “Fiona.”
“Nick,” he said, wrapping his long fingers around mine and giving my hand a little shake. He brought his drink to his lips and glanced around the room. “So, Fiona, what do you do?”
What do I do? What a great question. I couldn’t tell him that for the past ten years I’d been a doormat for Kyle Cassidy, so I came up with a convenient lie.
I held up my glass to the large banner hanging on the far wall that featured the name of the organization we were raising money for. I said, “I work for the Northeast Animal Rescue Fund. I do PR.”
“Awesome,” he said, tipping his glass to mine. “And are you here to solicit a large donation from me?”
I couldn’t tell if the question was filled with innuendo or was it just wishful thinking. I let my eyes drift across his face. For a moment, I pictured him fucking the girl on the video; his chest heaving, his torso covered in sweat. The thought made my juices flow a little.
“We would love to have your money, Mr. Patron,” I said. “The larger your donation the better.”
“You know who I am?” he asked, a frown knitting his manicured eyebrows. “Why do I feel like I’ve been targeted?”
The champagne glass froze at my lips. “I’m sorry?”
“You called me Mr. Patron,” he said, giving me a suspicious look.
“Didn’t you tell me your name?” I asked, working up a frown.
“No, I said my name was Nick.” His frown melted into a smile. “Don’t worry, you wouldn’t be doing your job if you didn’t know the name of every guest with deep pockets. I didn’t catch your last name.”
“Cassidy,” I said without thinking. The smile was immediately replaced by a deep frown. A little vein popped out of his right temple and he worked the muscles in his jaw.
“Cassidy? As in Kyle Cassidy?” he asked. His nostrils flared at the mention of my husband’s name. I quickly back peddled.
“Hardly,” I said, huffing, rolling eyes. “Same pronunciation, different spelling. I’m Kassidy with a K.” I leaned in and lowered my voice. “You don’t sound like a fan of Mr. Cassidy.”
“Kyle Cassidy is a piece of shit cocksucker,” he said, practically growling the words.” He narrowed his eyes to stare at me for a moment, then he took a deep breath and his features softened. He chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry. The guy just sticks in my craw. We do business together. Rather, I do business. He just sees how hard he can fuck me.”
“Do you like to be fucked hard, Mr. Patron?”
I know, I couldn’t believe I said it either. It sort of just popped out. The champagne was going to my head and Nick Patron was going to my crotch. I hid behind the champagne glass and held my breath. I was coming across like some horny party girl.
“I do not like being fucked by Kyle Cassidy,” he said, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. “You, on the other hand…”
“Fiona, dear, we’re ready to start the silent auction!”
My mother-in-law was calling to me from across the room. She spotted Nick and gave him a little wave. I looked back into his eyes and sighed. “Well, duty calls. It was lovely to meet you, Mr. Patron.”
I held out my hand and he took it between his hands. This time he didn’t shake my hand. He just held it there for a moment. “I’ll be at The Haven Club later,” he said. “If you’d like to have a nightcap.”
“Oh, um, well, I don’t know,” I said, stumbling over the words. “I might be here late.”
“I don’t mind waiting,” he said, bringing my hand to his lips. He pressed his lips to my hand and gave me a smile. “I’m sure you would make it worth my while.”
* * *
The concierge came around the desk to open the door that led from the small lobby to the restaurant/bar. He wished me a good evening and gave me a little nod when I passed. He had a look in his eye like he knew something I didn’t.
The room was dimly-lit this time of night. Most of the restaurant patrons had gone and the staff was vacuuming the carpet and changing table clothes. The bar was to the right of the restaurant. There was still a number of drinkers sitting at tables and lining the long bar, men in expensive suits mostly, and young women in party dresses who were not their wives. I wondered how many nights Kyle had spent here, trolling for his next sexual conquest.
There was a row of booths along one wall. I saw Nick Patron sitting at the last booth in the corner, the most private. When he saw me, he gave me a smile that cut through the darkness and slid out to greet me.
“I was hoping you’d come,” Nick said as I approached. He held out his arms like we were old friends and pulled me in for a kiss on each cheek. He held out his hand to direct me to slide into the booth across from him.
“I’m sorry it’s so late,” I said, mussing my hair, brushing it out of my eyes. “I must look a mess.”
“You look amazing,” Nick said, smiling with his eyes. A waitress appeared and I ordered a whiskey sour. Nick ordered another bourbon on the rocks. We made small talk until the drinks arrived, then Nick gazed into my eyes and asked for my life story.
“It’s really not that interesting,” I said, taking a sip of the drink and licking the drops from my lips. “I was born and raised in Ohio, college at Vassar, grad school at Brown, Masters in Business…” I caught myself before I mentioned that I’d been married for ten years to one of his most-hated associates.
“How long have you worked for the non-profit,” he asked. He took a sip of his drink and let his eyes drift around my face. There was a small candle on the table between us. The candlelight flickered in his eyes. God, he was sexy, without even trying.
“Um, I’ve been working with non-profits for a long time,” I said.
“Ever married?”
“Once,” I said. “Ten years ago. It didn’t work out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He was an asshole.”
“Most men are,” he said with a grin. “He must have also been a fool to let you go.” He reached across the table and put his hand on my arm. His fingers gently stroked my skin. Beneath the table, he slid his foot in between mine and began to rub against my leg.
“Mr. Patron…”
“Nick,” he said, fingers playing with the little hairs on my arm. “Call me Nick.”
“Nick, I’m really flattered by the attention, but I’m not sure I can do this.”
He softened his gorgeous eyes and tilted his head to the side. “Do what? Have a drink? Tell me your life story?”
“This,” I said, putting my hand on top of his. I gave his hand a little squeeze. “This isn’t something I do often. I mean, it’s been a really long time since I’ve… well… you know.”
“Ah, I see,” he said. “Do you want me to take my hand away?”
I blinked at him for a moment. “No.”
“Do you want to stop doing this?” he asked, sliding his leg up my calf.
“No,” I said quietly. I slipped my right foot out of the stiletto and slid down in the seat a bit. I slid my bare foot up the inside of his leg until my toes found his crotch. His cock was already plumped. My toes kneaded his cock, making
it grow thick and hard.
I asked, “Do you want me to stop doing this?”
“No,” he said, breathing a little harder. “Do you want me to stop doing… this?”
He slid off his shoe and slid his foot up my leg. I spread my legs and bit my lip as his foot slid in between my legs, his toes exploring my damp folds beneath the thong. I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one could see, then slid my hand under my skirt and tugged the thong to the side so he could press his toes into my wet hole.
“I’ve never been toe fucked before,” I said, moaning a little as his toes continued their probe between my folds. I gave him a dreamy-eyed grin. “At least not in public.”
“There is a women’s restroom down that hall,” he said quietly, nodding to a doorway next to the booth where we sat. “Care to join me?”
I didn’t take the time to think. I knew I would talk myself out of it if I did. I just swallowed hard and withdrew my foot from his cock. He let his foot drop from my pussy. I slid my foot back into the stiletto and picked up my purse. I licked my lips as I gazed into his eyes. “I’ll go first.”
He nodded and picked up his drink, then watched me go through the door. I slipped into the women’s restroom and leaned back against the door. I let out a long sigh, as if I’d been holding my breath for minutes. My thong was wet from my juices. My nipples pressed hard against the strapless bra. I put my purse on the sink and slid the thong down my legs and stuck it in my purse and snapped it shut.
Then he tapped lightly on the door.
…………………..
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